


Before the Last

by Drazyrohk



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Breeding, Egg Laying, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Oviposition, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: Ferrying the All Spark home to Cybertron is a mission of the utmost importance, but its influence inspires Optimus Prime to give Wheeljack precious cargo of a different kind to carry...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to all the lovely inspiration and encouragement I received while working on this, you made this happen. After an incredible dry spell, have something wonderfully self indulgent!

The All Spark had been retrieved. Optimus and Wheeljack had made it out of the path of the storm safely. The ride home should have been smooth sailing. 

Of course, their precious cargo threw a wrench into that plan rather quickly. 

Not more than five minutes after leaving the belt they had plucked the All Spark from, Optimus sagged in his seat and let out a dull groan. His hand moved to rub restlessly at his chest and his EMF wavered in an odd fashion. 

“Everything okay over there, chief?” Wheeljack asked without taking his optics off the view screen. 

“It is nothing.” Optimus assured him. “My systems are likely just strained from the retrieval.” 

“Right. I’ll try and make the trip back quick then. We’ll get home and then the doc can take a look at ya.” Wheeljack glanced over when Optimus shifted in his seat and leaned his helm back. “You just rest.” 

“A wise idea.” Optimus murmured. He closed his optics and settled his frame more comfortably in the seat, hands on the arm rests. 

A moment or so later, his vents hitched. He returned his servo to his chest plates and rubbed, his optics coming back online. He looked down at his frame as confusion flickered over his face plates. His field wavered once again, he spluttered, then another groan escaped him. 

“I am… feeling… under the weather.” Optimus said. His optics were unnaturally bright and pale, and condensation was beading on his frame. “Wheeljack? Perhaps you should stop for a moment.” 

“Sure thing.” Wheeljack guided the ship to a stop, then turned in his seat to face Optimus with a frown of concern on his face. “Anything I can do to help?” He asked. 

“I am unsure.” Optimus said. He let out a grunt of discomfort, his optics shifting to the vessel they were ferrying. “I have reason to believe proximity to the All Spark is somehow affecting me adversely.” 

“I don’t feel any adverse effects from bein’ so close, but then again, I’m not a Prime.” Wheeljack said with a glance in the All Spark’s direction. “Can’t exactly put it back where we got it, so we should probably hurry back.” 

“N-no. Not yet. Need time.” Optimus said. His field wavered a third time, then proceeded to ripple outward until it was filling the cabin. There was an edge to it that Wheeljack hadn’t expected to ever feel coming from someone like Optimus. It felt curiously like desire, like lust.

“Sure. Time.” Wheeljack said, arching a brow. “Prime, I’m not gonna lie. You’re not lookin’ so good. I think the best thing for you is to get the All Spark back to Cybertron and put it back where it’s supposed to go. There can’t be new sparks until it makes it back home.” 

“Yes.” Optimus said, his optics fixed on Wheeljack with sudden intensity. “Sparks. Need more sparks.” 

“Right. Not much of a future for our race without the All Spark powering the Well.” Wheeljack agreed with a smile. He reached out to the controls and set the autopilot, then tensed when Optimus reached over and closed one large servo around his forearm. 

“Need more sparks.” Optimus repeated in a breathless tone. “More… m-more sparks.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Wheeljack said with a hint of confusion in his voice. When Optimus stood, he frowned up at him. “Optimus?” 

“Spark.” Optimus said roughly. His hand released its grip and moved to Wheeljack’s chest, digits curling into his armour. 

“You mind takin’ a few steps back?” Wheeljack asked in shock and indignation.

“Need more sparks. More sparks.” Optimus repeated. His optics were blazing now, almost painful to look at. 

“Yeah well, that one’s in use. I need my spark, you can’t have it.” Wheeljack said, trying to push Optimus’ hand away. “What exactly do you think you’re doin’?” 

“Must make more sparks.” Optimus stated, now looming over Wheeljack where he still sat in the pilot’s chair.

“Do what now?” Wheeljack asked in alarm. He gripped Optimus’ wrist and tugged hard in an attempt to dislodge him. 

“More sparks… must make more sparks. Wheeljack.” Optimus said, voice lower and deeper than normal. “Give me your spark.” 

“You better not be sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’.” Wheeljack said with a touch of panic. “Snap outta this trance or whatever it is, Prime!” 

“Can’t.” Optimus stated, his fans running fast and his vents hitching. “The All Spark, too close. Must… m-must obey. Can’t ignore. T-too strong.” He grit his denta and groaned again. “H-hurts. Spark, aching.” 

Wheeljack might have been hit in the head a few times during his tenure as a Wrecker, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood what Optimus was saying, what he was implying, he just wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of it. 

“Can’t you hold on a few minutes until we get back?” He asked. “I’m sure Ratch-”

Optimus’ optics flared in a disconcerting manner, and he let out a sharp cry. It wasn’t quite a sound of pain, but it also wasn’t a happy one. “Wheeljack! Please! I can’t-” He pleaded brokenly. “Can’t stop it. Must make more sparks.” 

“Optimus… Not even Primes can just make more sparks. It doesn’t work that way.” Wheeljack tried to reason with him. 

“All Spark.” Optimus’ blazing optics shifted to the vessel behind them. His free servo was alternately rubbing at his chest plates and clutching them as though his spark was indeed physically aching. “Has the power to c-create life.” 

“And we’re gonna let it do just that. When we get it home, to Cybertron. That’s all the help it needs from us.” Wheeljack insisted. 

As Optimus stared at the All Spark, the servo pressed firmly against Wheeljack’s chest began to pet in a restless manner. 

“I will try.” Optimus said softly. He looked back down at Wheeljack, who was more still than he ever had been before. “Push this ship to move as fast as possible.” He said. “I will try to hang on until we reach Cybertron.” 

“Okay.” Wheeljack said with a slow nod. “Okay. Sit down, will ya? I’ll see how fast this baby can go.” 

Optimus sat down heavily, and Wheeljack turned back to the controls. It was difficult to concentrate on navigation, Wheeljack couldn’t help watching him out of the corner of his optics. 

Prime was panting lightly, heated air hissing from his vents, his mouth hanging open and his optics growing more and more pale with every passing moment. He kept letting out strained sounding groans beneath his breath, and his grip on the arm rests was tight enough to leave dents. 

Wheeljack thought about letting Optimus know how much longer they had, but worried speaking might cause him to lose his concentration, or that the time remaining would be too long and make him give up trying to last until they reached the planet. 

Soon enough, Optimus was shifting in his chair, fans labouring as they fought to cool him. He arched his back, hips leaving the seat, his helm leaning back. It was infuriatingly distracting. Wheeljack wasn’t about to lie and say that Optimus wasn’t a fine mech, a very well built one at that. 

Would it really be a hardship to take him up on his demands? 

At the same time, Optimus was his superior. Even if he hadn’t always been a willing member of ‘Team Prime,’ Wheeljack still respected Optimus and saw him as a leader. Fragging him, letting him do whatever the All Spark was trying to dictate would be tough to explain to the rest of the team when they got back. It was best to try and wait. 

Wheeljack swallowed nervously. “Hang in there, Optimus.” He said. 

“C-can’t… f-for much l-longer.” Optimus gasped in return. “It burns. Hurry.”

“I am literally pushing this ship as hard as I can.” Wheeljack reassured. “Not long now, okay?” 

“I can’t… Wheeljack, I can’t.” Optimus moaned, his optics flaring once more. “S-stop.” 

“Come on, don’t give up yet.” Wheeljack said, the controls creaking beneath his hands as he gripped them tightly. “It won’t be long now, just-” 

“Stop, please. Please make it stop.” Optimus begged breathlessly. 

When Wheeljack looked over, he felt heat ripple through him. There was light filtering through the gaps in Optimus Prime’s armour, brilliant and swirling blue light. Steam was rising where the condensation that had begun to bead was evaporated by the heat the big mech was giving off. It looked like Optimus was boiling alive while his spark struggled to escape from behind his chest plates. 

Wheeljack found himself weighing his options. Merging sparks wasn’t something to be done lightly. It was done for plenty of reasons, sure… 

And maybe there was no better reason than potentially saving the life of the last living Prime. Because at this point, Wheeljack was worried that doing nothing would see him arriving back at Cybertron with one All Spark in a can and a very dead Prime in the copilot seat. 

That is, if he arrived at all. The rate Optimus was heating up, he might just burst into flames and burn them both to a crisp. That was a nerve wracking thought. 

Wheeljack swallowed again, slowing the ship down to a more manageable speed and setting the autopilot. He released the controls and turned his chair, reaching out to touch Optimus on the shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s-” He began. 

Optimus looked up at him, optics radiating light, then he stood. Wheeljack grunted softly when Optimus grabbed hold of him and yanked him out of the chair. 

“O-Oookay then!” Wheeljack said loudly, trying to keep his pedes beneath him. “Hold on, just a sec-” 

His words faltered and the air was knocked from his vents when Optimus pressed him against the hull. 

“Optimus!” Wheeljack bleated. “Look, I’ll help you, just-” 

“Open.” Optimus demanded, voice raw and even deeper than usual. 

A voice like that had the power to melt straight through panels. Wheeljack felt his mouth go dry. 

“Uh, how… h-how open you want me to be?” He asked, vents hitching as Optimus leaned into him, one thick thigh nudging his own apart. 

“Open for me.” Optimus said. 

As dry as his mouth was, other parts of Wheeljack were the complete opposite. He could have just opened his panel and let Optimus have his way, but giving in had never been Jackie’s style. Instead, his mouth opened without his permission and he blurted “Is that an order, _sir_?” 

Some focus seemed to return to Prime’s optics, a darker ripple of blue. Optimus turned his mouth down, his field flickering with annoyance. “Wheeljack.” He stated simply, a slightly disapproving, long-suffering tone in his voice. 

“Can’t blame a mech for askin’.” Wheeljack muttered. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Optimus evidently took that as an invitation and the Wrecker found himself being kissed into silence. 

His parched glossa was given a reprieve as Optimus helpfully supplied plenty of oral lubricant. Wheeljack couldn’t hope to stifle the strained and needy sound that escaped him but Prime was able to do it for him as he mapped the inside of his mouth with his tongue.

As it turned out, Optimus was very good with his glossa. Wheeljack knew, when this was over, he was never going to be able to keep a straight face when Prime was giving one of his heroic pre-battle speeches. All he was going to be able to think about was how fast Optimus managed to get his fans blasting just by kissing him. 

Of course, there was also a lot of pawing going on. Optimus was rubbing Wheeljack’s chest with one hand while the other moved to cup the back of his thigh to tug their hips closer together. The hand on his chest slid lower and lower, tracing the contours of his armour. 

Optimus’s vents hitched and he slowly pulled out of the kiss. He rubbed his molten hot panel against Wheeljack’s thigh, then there was the distinctive click of his spike being released from behind it. 

“Let me in.” Optimus rasped. “Please. Can’t hold on.” 

Indeed, the plates covering the Prime’s spark seemed to be quivering from the strain of staying closed. It still felt too hurried, too rushed to just bare his spark, so Wheeljack settled for letting his own panels slide back. 

Warm lubricant slid down his inner thigh and Wheeljack felt a flicker of embarrassment. He was ridiculously wet and all because of a single (admittedly very nice) kiss and-

“N-no time to p-prepare you.” Optimus said with a desperate edge to his voice. “I apologize in advance if I h-hurt you.” 

And that voice. That voice that right now was so full of lust, full of things Wheeljack had never expected in his life to hear. His valve clenched as he took it in and saved it to his memory banks. It would undoubtedly help fuel his already vivid fantasies involving the leader of ‘Team Prime.’

“No hard feee-eelings!” Wheeljack squeaked as Optimus jerked the leg he still held a bit higher and pushed into him unceremoniously. 

Optimus Prime was a big bot. He was a big, big bot. A very big bot. A really wonderfully large bot whose size and alt mode were very much not overcompensating for things. 

He was also not wasting any time at all. As soon as he was in all the way, he let out a deep, agonized moan and began to thrust. The Forge of Solus Prime had done masterful work on Optimus when it remade him while he was at death’s door. No surgeon could boast about making anything half as good as what Wheeljack was feeling artificially. And no bot that Wheeljack had ever been with could come close to comparing. Optimus Prime was quite simply a thing of perfection. 

Just like Wheeljack had always hoped he would be. 

Wheeljack really, _really_ liked big bots. The bigger, the better. Bring on the broad shouldered, sturdy medics like Ratchet; the hulking bruisers like Bulkhead; the rigid and imposing officers like Ultra Magnus; most of all, bring on the larger than life, impossibly strong, almost-can’t-fit-inside-buildings-or-spaceships Optimus Prime. 

The same Optimus that was currently cupping his aft in both hands to lift his pedes from the floor effortlessly. The very same Prime who encouraged him to wrap his legs around his slender hips, who pressed his mouth to Wheeljack’s neck to stifle what sounded suspiciously like a prayer to Primus. 

“Oh frag-” Wheeljack grunted, gritting his denta. 

He had no idea what part of this felt the most intimate. The obvious was of course the spike buried deep within him, the relentless piston motion of Optimus’s hips, but the hot breath against his neck and the way Optimus moaned into his shoulder seemed even more so. The way he clung to the Prime’s chassis for dear life, the way he moved his hips into each thrust, the way his helm tilted back against the hull…

“Ah! Optimus!” Wheeljack cried. “I-I-”

Raising his helm, Optimus brushed his mouth against Wheeljack’s audio receptor. Breathless and still moving without pause, voice laden with static, he whispered, “Give me your spark.” 

Now this was definitely the most intimate thing about this encounter. Optimus followed his whispered demand with the parting of his own chest plates, baring the spark that had been straining to escape and flooding the room with luminous, icy blue light. 

It was so bright, Wheeljack couldn’t help but look away. It was also shocking when he thought about it. This wasn’t just any other mech, this was a Prime. And not just any Prime, this was Optimus. He was the one that had changed Wheeljack’s mind about authority figures. He was the one who had convinced Wheeljack to give Ultra Magnus a chance and had allowed them to move past centuries of baggage and bad blood. He was-

“Wheeljack.” Optimus said softly. He had a tone to his voice that Miko would have described as ‘kicked puppy.’ “Please.” 

His trembling digits traced along his jaw, and Wheeljack allowed Optimus to turn his helm so their optics could meet. Prime’s rhythm stuttered, making Wheeljack’s vents hitch. 

“Please.” Optimus said again. “I need you.” 

Any air that had managed to make it through Wheeljack’s labouring vents escaped with a choked sound, knocked from him as surely as though he’d been punched in the guts. 

He needed him. Optimus needed him. There was a distinct possibility that Cybertron did as well. Wheeljack could do this, all he had to do was stop thinking so hard about it. It wasn’t such a hard thing to bare his spark before a Prime. Absolutely nothing difficult about it. He just had to unlatch his chest plates and-

And then it would really be happening. He’d really be merging sparks with Optimus, with his leader. He’d be offering the core of himself to Prime and allowing himself to be filled-

“If this is a dream, I am going to kill someone with my bare hands.” Wheeljack said. 

A flicker of confusion moved through Prime’s EMF. He fixed his pale optics on Wheeljack’s face again and tilted his helm to the side. There was such an innocent expression on his face. “A dream?” He asked. 

Now was definitely not the time for a discussion, especially not on a topic like this. In fact, there was never going to be a good time for this discussion because Wheeljack never planned on having it. Not with Optimus, not with anyone. Not even Bulkhead. There was no easy way to admit to your teammates that you’d been fantasizing at length about your boss. 

Since he needed a distraction to keep Prime’s processor on the task at hand, Wheeljack let his chest plates part and his spark chamber iris open. The light from his spark paled in comparison to that emanating from Optimus, but it drew his gaze and renewed his pace. 

Wheeljack’s sigh of relief was disguised as a hoarse gasp as Prime leaned forward and brushed the very edge of his spark against his own. “Be gentle! S’been a while.” He panted. 

“I will get you closer, then.” Optimus said. “Make it quick.” 

On one hand, Wheeljack wanted to protest that. He didn’t want quick, he just wanted. He needed. He yearned. On the other, Optimus was exactly where Wheeljack wanted him; rolling his hips at the junction of his thighs with infuriatingly steady focus, gripping his aft in one hand while pressing his weight against him to hold him up. He was letting out positively pornographic moans and breathy whispers that seemed straight out of Wheeljack’s best and most vivid daydreams. 

Their sparks were inches apart. Prime’s radiated power, and tendrils of it licked across the surface of Wheeljack’s like a hot and charged glossa. It made his legs jerk and tighten around Optimus, it made his valve clench and his vents hitch. 

“Feels… I am so close…” Optimus groaned. “Almost there, almost-” 

His frame grew tense and his shoulders hunched. He pressed his spike in until the head pushed up against Wheeljack’s deepest nodes. Letting out a strangled cry, Wheeljack arched against him. 

“Let me… please let me…” Optimus begged quietly. “Wheeljack, please let me fill you.” 

“Thought that was the whole point?” Wheeljack panted, optics half closed. He fought the urge to squirm down a bit further on that spike, get that last bit of stimulation he needed to finally crest the wave. 

“May I?” Optimus asked, tone broken and spark reaching desperately for Wheeljack’s. 

“Yes.” Wheeljack said without hesitation. “Oh yes! Yes! Yeeesss!” He cried loudly when Optimus brought their sparks together at last. 

The fragging had been great already, but the second their sparks meshed, ever sensation amplified within him. Wheeljack chanted his intense and ecstatic agreement with increasing volume as Optimus gave a few more firm jerks of his hips and then burst. 

Overload tore through him like a ravenous beast. Wheeljack threw his helm back screamed as his spark pulsed hard against Prime’s. 

The spike within him seemed to throb in time with the spark entwined with his own, spreading fire through his depths. Optimus cried out wordlessly as he filled Wheeljack to the brim, hips twitching with each heavy beat of his spark. 

Relief and lust mingled within the connection that formed between them where their very souls were tangled. Wheeljack sent his own gratefulness back, still caught up in the bliss and beyond caring if he’d ever come down again.


	2. Chapter 2

Wheeljack wished he could say he couldn’t remember when it began. He wished he could feign ignorance, say it was a sudden thing, spur of the moment, that it meant nothing. 

But that would be a lie. And in a moment like this, it made his tank churn to think about telling such a lie. 

It wasn’t sudden. Wheeljack knew just when it began. The moment he had first laid optics on Optimus, he’d known deep down in his spark that he was good and truly doomed. 

The deep voice he’d heard over the comm belonged to one of the biggest Autobots he’d ever met. Even in the state he was in after spending time as Starscream’s ‘esteemed guest,’ Wheeljack was pretty sure if Optimus Prime punched him in the face, he’d thank him for it.

Maybe that’s why he’d left so fast. He couldn’t afford to let himself get attached right now, not to a mech like this. Even with Bulkhead standing so close, arm around him, hand on his chest, the warmth in his field and on his face, Wheeljack had optics only for Optimus in that moment. 

Somewhere along the line, in his travels out in space, Wheeljack had convinced himself that there was no way Optimus Prime could be as great as he seemed. He was fine, that much was undeniable, but was he the great hero that Bulkhead seemed to think he was? Was he the saviour everyone made him out to be? 

Wheeljack was honestly having a hard time believing a mech who greeted an ally with so much suspicion (no matter how well earned that suspicion was) garnered enough respect from Bulkhead that the big green lug had left the Wreckers to serve him.

That was likely why his second trip back to Earth had him speaking out so vocally against the Prime, had him brushing Optimus off like a grunt he didn’t owe the time of day to. 

It seemed that Wheeljack was safe. Whatever spell the Prime had woven when they first met had worn off. 

Then of course, Optimus had to go and save him, had to dig him out of a landslide. And of course, Wheeljack had felt that… well, that whatever it was that he felt in his spark come rushing back. Words like ‘longing’ and ‘yearning’ came to mind, but Wheeljack wasn’t the type to feel stuff like that. He couldn’t even admit to admiration, this was just Optimus doing what he had to as the leader of his team.

He couldn’t help thinking how small his servo seemed, engulfed in the Prime’s as he was effortlessly dragged out of the rubble. He was probably imagining the hint of relief that Optimus let move through his field and the light what looked suspiciously like hope in his optics as he looked at Wheeljack in disappointment. 

....

Those same optics were watching him carefully when he came to. He was on the floor of the ship with no memory of having gotten there, and Optimus appeared to be laying on his side next to him. 

“Wheeljack?” Optimus asked, his voice rough and sounding concerned. “Are you hurt?” 

For a long moment, Wheeljack wasn’t sure how to answer. His processor slogged through formulating a response, but all it came up with was a grunt. He rubbed his face with one hand and gave himself another moment, then asked a single, very important question. 

“M’not dreamin’, am I?” 

Optimus let out what might have been a soft laugh, though it could have simply been him ex-venting shortly. “No Wheeljack. You are not dreaming.” 

The Prime paused, brows knitting. “I believe I may have fallen on you. So I ask again, are you hurt?” 

“Nope.” Nothing hurt really. Not in a bad way at least. Wheeljack pushed himself up on one elbow and blinked the static from his optics. “You fell on me?” 

“Yes.” Optimus said, a flutter of shame moving through his field where it touched Wheeljack’s. “It was an accident.” 

“Aw, that’s no biggie, Prime. Always knew there was more to ya than the others were lettin’ on.” Wheeljack joked. 

Optimus looked so confused that Wheeljack couldn’t help laughing. His elbow slipped and he fell back against the floor again, frame shaking with mirth.

“Wheeljack?” Optimus asked again after a moment. “Are you sure-” 

“C’mon, I’m fine.” Wheeljack waved a hand dismissively. “Seriously, you’re not as heavy as that mountain Dreadwing dropped on me that one time. I might be a bit scratched but I ain’t even dented, Optimus.” 

This time, Wheeljack was sure he wasn’t imagining the relief he felt in the Prime’s EMF. 

“Besides.” Wheeljack continued with a shrug. “I’m a Wrecker. I can take a lot of punishment. If I had a credit for every time a mech toppled over on me, I’d be able to buy myself a bigger spaceship.” 

Optimus smiled at him in clear amusement and perhaps a touch of exasperation. Wheeljack tried to blame the warmth that bloomed through him on the realization that he was exchanging what was essentially pillow talk with the mech that had long been the object of his very one-sided affections. 

“It seems you have indeed emerged from our mishap unharmed.” Yes, that was definitely amusement. Optimus smiled a little more broadly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed a mech overload himself into blackout before.” 

Fans clicking on, Wheeljack found himself spluttering out a shocked reply. Something along the lines of “Yeah, well, y’know-” 

Very eloquent. Not that anyone would expect eloquence out of a Wrecker. Especially not one who had just had his wheels greased so thoroughly. 

“You seem to be doing better.” He blurted out in an attempt to shift the focus off of himself. 

“I am feeling better.” Optimus said with a nod. “Thank you for your assistance, and I apologize for my behaviour.” 

“No hard feelings.” Wheeljack said. 

Optimus was still staring down at him and Wheeljack was finding it difficult to look away. This was the longest he’d shared optic contact with the Prime, mostly because the other times he’d forced himself to look away so as not to come across as creepy or weird. He wasn’t going to engage in a staring contest with a Prime, not for any reason. Not to memorize the shape and hue of his optics, not to potentially read way too much into how bright they seemed to be glowing. 

“Perhaps we should be going?” Optimus asked, though he made no move to get up or break optic contact. “Our objective hasn’t changed.” 

It seemed that Optimus Prime didn’t party _or_ cuddle. Not that Wheeljack was a cuddler. Wreckers didn’t really do the cuddling thing. And he also wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings. He was totally the type to ask for seconds, but Optimus was right. They had a world to save.

“Yeah, sure.” Wheeljack said in agreement. He sat up with difficulty and startled when a large hand pressed against his back to help steady him. 

Optimus smiled encouragingly. He rose to his feet and offered Wheeljack his hand once more.

If his hand had felt small before, it felt even more so now thanks to the Prime’s recent upgrades. Wheeljack reached up and took his hand, allowing Optimus to pull him to his feet. Said feet were a touch on the unsteady side and Wheeljack stumbled as a result. 

He fell against Optimus, who reacted by wrapping his arms around him to keep him from returning to the floor. 

“Easy now.” Optimus said in a steady tone. 

“You uh, really scrambled my circuits, Prime.” Wheeljack muttered in embarrassment. “S’been awhile since someone managed to knock my stabilizers out from under me.” 

Optimus held him until he was able to stand on his own. Wheeljack counted himself lucky that no one was here to see this spectacle he was making of himself. He was acting like a new build who’d just lost their seals, for the love of Primus. 

“I would apologize, but I’m not sure I’m sorry.” Optimus said. 

Okay, that was definitely his spark stuttering. Wheeljack let out a cross between a laugh and a cough and stared up at Optimus in disbelief. 

“So instead, I will say this.” Optimus smiled again. “You’re welcome.”


	3. Chapter 3

Things were easier once Wheeljack was back in his seat, and once Optimus was back in his. The crisis seemed to have passed and the mess was cleaned up and while Wheeljack should have felt that featherweight euphoria that came hand in hand with an absolutely mindblowing overload, he couldn’t help feeling curiously heavy instead. 

Still, he smiled a bit as he put his servos back on the controls. He let out a slow, satisfied ex-vent, door wings canted at a comfortable angle. He wished he had a cygar on him, or maybe a drink. That would be the perfect end to this.

Optimus sat back in his own chair, optics half lidded. He looked far less tense than before, and there was no more disconcerting light escaping from below his plates. 

Wheeljack turned his focus on the stars, taking control back from the autopilot. They hadn’t gotten far when Optimus said his name softly. 

“Yeah Prime? What’s up?” Wheeljack asked, looking over at him while still wearing that smile.

“If I may ask… why would you have been dreaming about this encounter?” Optimus’ question knocked the air out of him all over again and Wheeljack wheezed lightly as he gripped the controls tight enough to make his struts creak. 

“You expressed several times that you thought you were dreaming. And even threatened grievous bodily harm upon someone if you were.” Optimus continued in a slightly sleepy voice.

“Yeah well. That’s just an expression.” Wheeljack said, keeping his optics glued to the viewscreen now. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I see.” Optimus said, a frown creasing his brow. He was quiet for a moment, then he sat up straighter in his seat. His field let slip a flicker of disappointment. Really? Was he going to go all ‘Dadimus Prime’ as Miko would put it? Now, in this moment? 

“Though I gotta say, I don’t know many people who haven’t dreamed about hookin’ up with a Prime. It’s supposed to be almost like a religious experience or something.” Wheeljack said, his servos flexing on the controls. 

“Hrm.” Optimus muttered in response to that. When Wheeljack happened to glance over, he saw the Prime was staring out the window and still frowning. “I see.” Optimus said distractedly. 

What was that all about? Wheeljack thought he’d been pretty damn careful about hiding whatever feelings he had harboured once upon a time, there was no way Prime could be picking up on them. Whatever had slipped out in his moment of passion, it wasn’t what Optimus thought it was. 

No matter how many times Wheeljack had woken up with his panels hot and loose, the thought of Optimus Prime’s frame tangled together with his own making his spike throb in its casing, it didn’t mean anything. It was just a fantasy. Same as any other. No different than dreaming about anyone else on Team Prime. 

No matter how much more frequently those dreams came… No matter how much more frustrated he was after them. 

Optimus drew in a slow breath and broke Wheeljack from his thoughts. He looked over to make sure the Prime wasn’t having another attack and found himself meeting Optimus’s optics. The Prime opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, ex-vented roughly and looked away. 

Wheeljack continued to stare at him, trying to figure out what the problem might have been. 

“If perhaps you did indeed dream of such an encounter, why did you never pursue it?” Optimus suddenly asked. 

Wheeljack barked out a laugh, arched a brow and shook his helm. “What?” He asked in surprise. “You serious?” 

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious about wanting to know the answer.” Optimus said, his optics meeting Wheeljack’s again. 

“Because you’re Optimus Prime.” Wheeljack said, both brows creeping upward. 

“Am I not a mech like any other?” Optimus asked with a frown. “Do I not still vent and process and possess the same wants and needs as other mechs?” 

“I’m sure you do. And you demonstrated that nicely here, but… you’re still Optimus. The Optimus. You’re the Prime that doesn’t party.” Wheeljack said. “And I’m a busted up Wrecker who has issues with authority that’s far below your station. Good for a frag here and there but not exactly someone you’d take home to meet your creators.” 

“You think very little of yourself.” Optimus observed. “You are much more than that, Wheeljack.” 

“Right. Also a convenient vessel for Matrix-charged transfluid when Optimus Prime’s frame is going a bit buggy from gettin’ too close to the source of all future life on Cybertron.” Wheeljack muttered, his knuckles creaking again on the controls. 

When there was no response, Wheeljack swallowed past the lump in his intake and glanced at Optimus out of the corner of his optic. Prime was staring at him, but there was no horrified or hurt expression on his face. No… he just looked determined. 

“I don’t believe you.” Optimus said and broke a long silence that stretched between them. “You are much more than you give yourself credit for, Wheeljack. You are more than an object of convenience.” 

“Sure.” Wheeljack said sourly. “Not like you wouldn’t have done the same with anyone else who mighta been flyin’ this rust bucket-” 

“That isn’t true.” Optimus interrupted. 

“You know that for sure? You been in this position before?” Wheeljack demanded, a scowl on his face when he turned in his seat to look at Optimus properly. 

“I can say with some certainty that this is not something I would have chosen to do with anyone else. You are the only one I would have chosen to fly this ship in this moment. It could not have been anyone but you.” Optimus said adamantly. 

“The only reason it couldn’t have been anyone else is cause me and Magnus are the only two who know how to fly this thing. And you couldn’t leave the others without a commander, so I was the default choice. You’re not exactly doin’ a great job of provin’ your point, Prime.” Wheeljack said with a roll of his optics.

“And what about you?” Optimus asked. “If you had been put into such a position with someone else, would you have made the same choice? Or did you simply acquiesce because I am Optimus Prime?” 

That was a heavy question. And one that Wheeljack immediately knew the answer to. Not that he intended to say it aloud. After all, on one hand yes, he did it because it was Optimus asking him to. On the other hand, he’d done it for other reasons that he wasn’t going to detail. Not to Optimus, not to anyone. 

“If you had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have wound up in this situation. So I guess we’re both in this by default.” Wheeljack muttered. 

“Wheeljack.” Optimus said with disappointment and reached up to pinch the space between his optics. 

“So much for the afterglow.” Wheeljack replied, rolling his optics. If it weren’t for the way his frame was still singing-

“We both need to be honest with one another. This is not the sort of situation two mechs should be in while keeping so much from each other.” Optimus stood, towering over Wheeljack. 

“I think I preferred the pillow talk to a spark to spark.” Wheeljack didn’t look up, keeping his optics glued to the starscape before him. 

“I will begin.” Optimus lifted his chin. “Though I did not expect this to be the outcome of my choice to ask you to escort me on this quest, I cannot say that I am unhappy with it.” 

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Wheeljack asked.

Optimus hesitated. He clenched and unclenched his servos, then he drew in a slow breath. “Because… with a few details aside, this is something I’ve dreamt about myself.” He said. 

Wheeljack reset his audials a few times, his servos easing up on the controls. He glanced up at Optimus, who stared at him intently. 

“Come again?” Wheeljack muttered. 

Again, there was hesitation. Then Optimus ex-vented, his mouth pulling into a tight line. “I was cautioned by Ratchet to restrain myself, to suppress my feelings. At the time I felt he was likely correct, that the timing wasn’t right. However, circumstances being what they are now, I feel there is no better moment for honesty.” He said. 

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. There was no way this was what Wheeljack thought it was. Impossible. Not happening.

“I’m going to stop you-” Wheeljack said. 

“No.” Optimus stated, mouth turning down a little. 

Before the Prime could continue, Wheeljack found himself praying the next words out of his mouth would be a rejection. Not a confession. Please don’t let it be a confession. Please let Optimus be on the cusp of saying how much he disliked and was disappointed with him.

Wheeljack didn’t deserve to be the object of Optimus Prime’s affections. Not after the way he had behaved towards him on Earth.

“Since our first meeting, I have seen the potential in you to be a proud and honourable member of my team. I have been impressed with your progress, I have admired you from afar.” No no no no no no- “I kept my feelings to myself out of fear that my position, my title would make things between us awkward. Doubly so should you reject me…” This could not be happening, this was a nightmare. “I trust that your enthusiasm in our joining today is indication that somewhere within your spark, you may harbour feelings for me as well. It would make things easier in the future if this were true.” 

A few years ago, Wheeljack would have been running the second Optimus started speaking. He would have shoved the Prime into an escape pod and he would have flown this ship as far away as he could and never looked back. He might have even punched Optimus first before stuffing him into the pod. 

But all of that progress that Prime mentioned was powerful and Wheeljack had gotten… attached. He was part of the team whether he liked it or not. 

Regardless, there was no way, no fragging way he was going to make some sort of soppy, overly dramatic confession in return. There was no way he was telling Optimus that he had feelings of any kind. No matter how expectantly the Prime looked at him.

His servo shook as he reached out and turned the autopilot back on. He rose without a word, turning to face Optimus. Wheeljack’s optics blazed as he stared up at the Prime. 

Optimus hadn’t moved, so Wheeljack was able to step right up to him, using his broad chest to push the Prime back a step. It would have worked better if the top of his helm didn’t come up to Optimus’s windshield, but the effect of it was still satisfying. That disappointed expression softened into something more like concern. 

Good. Optimus should be concerned. He’d made a mess of this. 

“You got a lot of nerve.” Wheeljack said in a low voice. “You just had to go and open your mouth, didn’t you?” 

A nervous flutter moved through Optimus’s field and he frowned. 

Wheeljack raised a hand and jabbed his finger against the Prime’s chest plates. “You just had to go and ruin a perfectly good frag with _feelings_.” He said in an accusing tone. 

“If I was mistaken-” Optimus stammered. 

“You just had to go and make some grand speech, didn’t you? Typical Prime, making a spectacle out of everything.” Wheeljack continued, and when he stepped forward, he didn’t put as much force into it. Their frames were touching now, Optimus was standing his ground as Wheeljack firmly pressed against him. 

“You are under no obligation to reciprocate, I was merely offering you the chance to-” Optimus said, a bit more steadily than before. 

“Blah blah blah.” Wheeljack interrupted. He reached up, grabbed hold of one of the Prime’s helm extensions and dragged him downward. Their mouths crashed together, Optimus opened his in a gasp and Wheeljack took the opportunity to silence him soundly with his glossa. 

There, how was _that_ for a confession?


	4. Chapter 4

There was no hesitation. None at all. Optimus curled his arms around Wheeljack’s waist and pulled him against his chassis. His glossa met every stroke, every flick of the Wrecker’s. Heated air gusted from his vents and a rumble rose up from deep in his chest. 

He lifted Wheeljack from his pedes and took a step towards the chair he had been seated in during the journey. As Optimus curled a servo around the back of Wheeljack’s helm and deepened the kiss, he sank down into the chair. 

Wheeljack arranged himself comfortably in the Prime’s lap, a shuddering ex-vent escaping him. Optimus let out another deep rumble in response, the vibrations of which moved through Wheeljack’s frame like a current. 

When Wheeljack flared his vents to let the heated air out, Optimus slipped his fingers beneath his plates. Those huge servos were moving delicately as they explored cabling and protoflesh, their gentle touch making all the tension that Wheeljack was clinging to begin to melt away. 

This was much better than some sort of soppy confession. This way, he could show Optimus how he felt rather than tell him. 

Drawing out of the kiss slowly, Optimus ex-vented against Wheeljack’s mouth. He leaned in again and kissed Wheeljack’s bottom lip, then the corner of his mouth. 

“Do all of my speeches inspire such desires in you?” He asked. 

Wheeljack let out a grunt, his armour rippling. “If I wasn’t tempted to just punch you, yeah.” He muttered. “I think this is a better way of shuttin’ you up.” 

“I am inclined to agree.” Optimus said. Every word he spoke could be heard as well as felt. Wheeljack felt heat pooling behind his panels again. 

“I’d let you keep talking, but then you might expect me to do the same and that’s not the sorta mech I am.” Wheeljack said. “I let my actions speak louder than my words.” 

“Words can often be unnecessary.” Optimus said, nuzzling his mouth against Wheeljack’s and smiling ever so slightly. “I think for the time being, we are beyond them.” 

“Good.” Wheeljack huffed. “I was gettin’ tired of it. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like arguing.” 

“After this, we should talk.” Optimus said. “Not argue… just talk.” 

“If we have the energy to hold a conversation after what I’m about to do to you? I’m gonna be sorely disappointed.” Wheeljack snorted. 

“I will be too.” Optimus rumbled, his smile and optics downright affectionate now. Wheeljack felt his faceplates heat a bit more. “Shall we?” 

Infuriatingly polite. Wheeljack grunted and raised up out of Optimus’ lap enough to open his panel again. “Yeah, let’s get this show on the road.” He said. 

Optimus put a servo between Wheeljack’s legs, one wide digit seeking his valve entrance. The sudden touch made him gasp, made Optimus murmur a soft apology. Then that thick digit was pressing into him and stars erupted in Wheeljack’s vision. Big, big hands. Very skilled, steady servos. 

Wheeljack had been trying to set himself up as the one in control this time, it was honestly astonishing how quickly that control was shattered by a single touch. 

Weaving gentle figure eights around the nodes in the lining of Wheeljack’s valve, Optimus kissed the side of the extension at the front of the Wrecker’s helm. He pulled his finger free, worked two in instead. 

“I understand better than you might think.” Optimus said close to Wheeljack’s audial. “I understand you cannot answer me with words. So tell me in whatever way you need, Wheeljack.” 

Those two fingers found a particularly heated node and pressed against it firmly. Wheeljack’s vents stuttered and he let out a low groan. 

“Show me with your expression.” Optimus said, servo moving languidly. “Show me with the way you breathe my name. Show me with your frame, the way it fits with mine.” 

“Primus, Optimus!” Wheeljack exclaimed. His valve squeezed down around the digits within it, calipers gripping in desperation. He balled a fist and struck the wide chest plates in front of him, not quite hard enough to splinter glass. 

“And if you need to, express your frustration with me.” Optimus murmured, mouth moving gently over one of his helm finials. “Show me how it angers you I kept you waiting for so long.” 

“Shut up.” Wheeljack hissed, but he still rocked his hips into the hand between his legs. “Stop it. I… I don’t…” 

He shook his helm, once again pounding his fist against Optimus’s chest plates. Optimus took it without so much as a flinch. In fact, he just moved his fingers faster, deeper and more firmly. 

“Optimus.” Wheeljack breathed, then he grit his denta so tightly his jaw creaked. He didn’t know what else to say, this wasn’t how he’d expected the second round to go. In fact, he hadn’t been expecting a second round at all. 

“I am here.” Optimus said. “I have you.” 

When Wheeljack tried to press his face against Optimus’ shoulder to hide it, the Prime rumbled again and used his free hand to draw him back upright. 

“Let me see you. I want to watch you.” Optimus said. 

“Why can’t you just frag me?” Wheeljack demanded savagely, his hips grinding down on Optimus’s hand. “Why does this have to be about anything at all, why can’t we just-” 

Those fingers within him pushed in all the way to the last knuckle and Optimus smothered his protests with a firm kiss. As their glossa slid together again, Wheeljack expulsed heated air from his vents in frustration. Optimus responded with a soft huff of amusement, then his servo was moving in such a way that Wheeljack couldn’t muster the concentration to stay mad. 

He panted into the kiss they shared, his valve grew more and more slick and rippled around Prime’s digits eagerly. Optimus seemed unhurried this time, taking care to find each and every node he could touch. He mapped the inside of Wheeljack’s mouth with his glossa as if he were trying to memorize its every contour. 

Wheeljack was the one to break it, the short cry that escaped him carrying a rasp of static. Sparks flew from beneath his servos as he dragged them down Optimus’s arms. Charge licked between his seams, building up fast, wanting to burst forth. 

Optimus stared at him, and where their fields touched Wheeljack could swear he felt something akin to reverence. “You are so beautiful like this.” Optimus said. 

“S’the first time anyone’s ever told me that.” Wheeljack gasped out. And he didn’t know why Optimus would say that, why he would feel that way. Wheeljack wasn’t someone to revere, wasn’t someone who was beautiful. He was just another Wrecker, just another war hardened soldier fighting because it was the only thing he was good at anymore. 

“I have always found you beautiful.” Optimus said with that same little smile. 

“Think you need your optics checked.” Wheeljack looked up and met said optics. His cheeks were burning now. “I’d take ruggedly handsome, but beautiful? That’s not for me.” 

“I suppose we will have to agree to disagree.” Optimus said with a hint of amusement. 

“Wish I had seen this side of you before. It mighta made things easier.” Wheeljack muttered, his hips moving restlessly. “I might have even taken a chance a lot sooner.” 

“Ready for more?” Optimus asked as he slid his servo free, leaving Wheeljack woefully empty. 

“Frag yes.” Wheeljack breathed out harshly. He heard Optimus shift his panel aside, then he was being guided down until their hips met and was blissfully filled once more. The shout that escaped him was wordless and loud, and he felt as much as heard Optimus’s answering rumble and groan. 

“Go on then. Show me.” Optimus demanded. 

“That an order?” Wheeljack asked with a soft laugh. 

Optimus just smiled in response.


End file.
